


Bright Lights, Bright Eyes

by EndlessMidnightSky



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Dancing, Errera, Guns For Hire AU, M/M, NYS
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-22
Updated: 2015-07-22
Packaged: 2018-04-10 14:18:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4395086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EndlessMidnightSky/pseuds/EndlessMidnightSky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>York takes his boyfriend to the light and sound overload that is Errera for the first time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bright Lights, Bright Eyes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [red_as_ever](https://archiveofourown.org/users/red_as_ever/gifts).



> A gift for red_as_ever who is the other half of this awesome raft of a ship we somehow managed to create in the GFH RP. I missed writing it with her while acting as a research assistant in Mexico and so wrote this.
> 
> Also claiming first NYS fic on AO3 (I think) .^.

The music pulses through the air and the lights seem to follow the vibrations as they always do at Errera. York leads Sigma into the club and, after handing their helmets over, through the crowd of swaying bodies, hand in hand. Even off the dance floor, people can't resist the music, tapping their feet, shifting on their feet or in their seats. They're walking to the beat themselves when they're not dodging people, Sigma notices.

Eventually, the reach a less crowded corner of the club where they can breathe, though the lights and music reach them even here. The threat of being separated by the other patrons has passed, but neither lets go of the other's hand. Why would they? They came here to have fun together and they enjoy the connection.

Sigma's nervous. He's never been to a place like this before, only recently started going to bars. Clubs are a whole new level, but one he can't help but be excited by, if the presence of the smile York loves so much is any indication. His red eyes glow in the beams as he looks around, taking in the bartenders showing off their cocktail making skills, the mass of movement that is the dance floor and the crowd they just pushed through. Looking back to York, he laughs, and when asked why, tells him that his blind eye keeps changing color in the roaming strobe lights. That gets York laughing as well and he steps closer to steal a kiss in the lit darkness. Sigma chases him for more when he pulls back and, well, who is he to deny him?

When they separate, York grins and squeezes his hand, then starts tugging him back through the crowd and towards the dance floor. Sigma laughs, making half-hearted protests, but no attempts to stop him.

It's even more packed on the dance floor than it was in the crowds so they press close together once they get there so as not to lose each other while the baseline throbs up through their feet from the floor. York's already swaying, but Sigma looks around at the other dancers, then back to his boyfriend, uncertain.

There's no set moves here, York assures him, having to shout. No right or wrong, just move to the beat and have fun. York holds him as he moves, showing Sigma, and within moments, he's moving too. Swaying, twisting, smiling. He's always been a fast learner.

In a few, short minutes, they're both lost to the music, keeping in time with it and each other and shifting easily when the track and beat changes. York's hands are on Sigma's hips, Sigma's on York's shoulders and they've baely stopped touching since they got here. Sigma lets go to spin, arms up and laughing while York watches the light play over him, hands soft so he can turn, once, twice, three times around. On the third, he stumbles and York catches him which sends both of them off balance and they bump into the dancer behind them. Apologies are lost in the music, but she turns back, uncaring and they're left laughing in each others arms.

Sigma pulls up, still grinning, all anxiousness long gone and then they're dancing again, close together, never still as songs come and change. Even when they can't go on, when their breath comes quickly and they leave the dance floor, hand in hand as the entered, their eyes are as bright as the lights and their smiles wide, despite the sweat glistening on their skin. They lean on each other nonetheless as they collect their helmets stumble out of the club and into the dark, quiet night.

Who kisses the other first, neither of them know or care. The air is clear enough for their helmets to dangle from their fingers for a while as they kiss and the club is muted by the thick walls behind them, the bass only just making it through. They're as close as they were on the dance floor, closer even, despite the lack of others pressing them together, but they don't need them. This is their time, it always has been.


End file.
